


nothing else but secret

by vulcanistics



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Everyone Thinks They're Together, German National Team, Gossip, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rumours, UEFA Nations League, meddling teammates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 05:17:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16570370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcanistics/pseuds/vulcanistics
Summary: Despite what everyone thinks, Julian and Presnel are not dating.





	nothing else but secret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thomasmxller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomasmxller/gifts).



> I started this fic in September, before the first international break, and well, November's international break is almost upon us, and I'm finally done with it! Anyway, the fic is set during the September international break, just before the Germany vs France Nations League match, and it features lots of meddling teammates and rumours and oblivious pining. This fic was a lot of fun to write, even if it did take forever, and it could probably use some more editing, but I'm kinda happy with it, and I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Title from "I Hide My Love" by John Clare.

“Why are you restless?” Leroy asks, stretching his leg across the gap between the two beds to dig his ankle into Julian's thigh.

Julian bats at Leroy’s foot, shoving it away from him and smirks when it hits the floor with a satisfactory thud. He knows what he must look like to an observer, what he must look like to Leroy—checking his phone multiple times in the span of an hour, constantly adjusting the pillow behind his back, trying to find a comfortable position and failing miserably—but it's less to do with restlessness, and more to do with the sense of nervous excitement that's thrumming under his skin.

He checks the time on his phone again and doesn’t look up when he replies, “Not restless, just bored. There's nothing to watch on Netflix.”

“Bored,” Leroy repeats, then scoffs in disbelief, “I’d probably believe you if you weren’t such a bad liar and if I didn’t know you.” He throws a pillow at Julian that hits him squarely in the chest and looks at him expectantly. “Jule, do you know many times you’ve sighed in the past half an hour? It’s getting annoying.”  

Julian resists the urge to sigh again and instead opts to pick at the threads of the bedcovers. He could probably try the same lie again or he could come up with another explanation, anything to avoid spilling the truth about why he couldn’t stop fidgeting.

Except, there was one minor problem.

Leroy was able to read Julian with ease. Lying was not an option then, Leroy would somehow know. And going by how his entire fucking team had been teasing him the past few days, he’s fairly certain that telling the truth would make Leroy’s face light up like it was his goddamn birthday.

“It’s Presnel,” he responds eventually, grimacing when Leroy grins cheekily.

“Your French boyfriend?” Leroy squeaks out, pushing himself up on his elbows and turning his upper body towards Julian.

Julian sighs. He drops his head into his hands and tries very hard not to scream.

Despite what everyone seemed to think, he was not dating Presnel Kimpembe. He was not.

 

The rumour was well, a _rumour._

He's not even sure who to blame for it but Julian's willing to put his money on Leon, Joshua, Matze, and maybe, possibly even, Thilo being the culprits behind the rumour. 

It had started quietly enough–which was how all rumours started anyway–Matze leaning against him in the car and asking him who he was texting, and Julian saying Presnel's name with a broad smile, and the entire situation had escalated from there. He should have been more suspicious when Leon and Joshua had cornered him in the elevator and had asked him a series of increasingly vague and almost pointless questions about Paris

Someone told someone who told somebody else that Julian was dating Presnel and well, that was enough for the team. They had decided that it was the truth and that Julian had simply elected not to tell them. And once they had an idea in their head, it was impossible trying to convince them otherwise.

Julian's not sure what’s worse: the fact that his national team was teasing him about his alleged and non-existent relationship with Presnel, or the fact that they had somehow, _somehow,_ picked up on Julian’s big, dumb, secret crush on Presnel, which he had been systematically trying to deal with.

He had been sure nobody knew about the crush, he hadn’t even told anybody about it. He had wanted to get over it before Presnel, or anybody else at PSG or the France National Team or the German National Team got wind of it and teased him about it.

Of course, his entire plan had crumbled to pieces when Manuel Neuer had sat next to him during lunch and congratulated him on his boyfriend, going on to add that he's looking forward to meeting Presnel after the Germany vs France match.

Julian’s brain had stuttered to a stop and he had nearly knocked over his glass of water in his haste to stand up. He’d been about to deny any sort of romantic feelings for Presnel when the full extent of Manuel’s words had registered in his brain _–dating._

Manuel thought he was dating Presnel. It was a rumour. He didn’t know that Julian was kind of in love with Presnel.

Julian had flopped back into his chair in relief, but in his shock, he had barely been able to form the words to tell Manuel he was wrong about Presnel and him. When he eventually did, Manuel had just laughed, patted his back and turned away to continue his conversation with Thomas, effectively shutting down and ignoring Julian’s defence.

He had managed to get through the rest of his lunch with a latent feeling of discomfort and nervousness. He quickly realised that the rumour about him dating Presnel had spread through the team like wildfire and he had spent the latter half of the day vehemently denying the rumour to whoever had come up to congratulate him. Even Benni, who was in Russia, and who had probably heard everything from Mats, had phoned him up to ask about it.

In the end, nobody believed Julian when he said he wasn’t dating Presnel Kimpembe.

It was tragic that everyone genuinely thought he was dating Presnel, because it wasn’t true, despite how much Julian wanted it to be.

 

“He’s not my fucking boyfriend,” Julian mutters, glaring at Leroy.   

Leroy smirks, evidently not buying Julian’s story. “Sure, Jule.”

“Fine, whatever, he’s not–I don’t like him like that. We’re not dating. You have to believe me.” Julian grits his teeth.

Leroy’s eyes widen and Julian watches him open and close his mouth. He grimaces, curling his hands into fists as he braces himself for Leroy to tell him that he’s lying. But the teasing comment never arrives.

“Okay, alright,” Leroy says gently with a warm smile, reaching out his hand to pat Julian’s knee. “Tell me why your Presnel has got you fidgeting like a worm?”

“He–” Julian pauses to rub at the back of his neck. His cheeks feel warm, and he’s not sure whether it’s from frustration or exhaustion or embarrassment, or some combination of all. “He was to meant to be here fifteen minutes back.”

Leroy blinks once, twice, and then, brings his hand to his mouth to cover his guffaws.

“Let me get this straight. Presnel Kimpembe, your not-boyfriend, who happens to play for France, if you’ve conveniently forgotten that tiny detail, is coming to our team hotel. To see you?”

 _Fuck_. He really wasn’t making this any easier for himself. “Yeah,” he mouths weakly.

“You know, if you’re trying to prove that he’s really not your boyfriend, you’re doing a terrible job.”

Julian slumps against the headboard of the bed and groans, “Fuck off, would you?”

Leroy’s shoulders shake in silent laughter and Julian picks up the pillow Leroy had thrown at him earlier and flings it at him, scowling when Leroy catches it above his head.

“Did you tell Presnel the correct room number?” Leroy questions when he finally stops giggling.

“Yeah, of course–”

“No, I mean, ours. Or did you give him your old room number? Considering you were rooming with Joshua till Leon came and kicked you out.”

Julian freezes with his hands on his mouth. In front of him, Leroy’s eyes mirrored Julian’s own alarm of dawning realisation. He had forgotten to tell Presnel that he had shifted to Leroy’s room. An image of Leon and Joshua talking to Presnel flashes in his mind and he hastily scrambles off the bed.

“Oh my god, he's going to meet Leon and Joshua. Fuck.”

“I get that you’re desperate but consider wearing your shoes before running out,” Leroy calls out from his bed.

Julian pauses with his fingers gripped around the doorknob and tilts his head back to glare at Leroy. “Firstly, I’m not desperate. Secondly, do you have any idea how weird it’s going to be if Jo and Leon tell him that we’re dating? Thirdly, shut up, I don’t care about my feet right now, this is important!”

Julian slams the door shut on the sound of Leroy’s laughter and sprints.

 

He skids to a stop in front of Joshua's room and splays out his fingers against the wall near the door. He let this happen, he let Leon and Joshua and Presnel be in the same room together.

Ruefully shaking his head, he knocks against the door. “Leon, Josh, I swear to god, open the door right now.”

There’s the sound of shuffling feet and laughter from behind the door, and Julian takes a step back. A moment later, the door swings open and it’s not Leon or Joshua, but Julian Brandt behind the door. Brandt beams at him, “Hello, we were wondering when you were going to show up.”

“Is Presnel here?” Julian demands, pushing past Brandt.

“Yeah, he’s–”

“Playing cards. You’re playing cards with my teammates.” Julian comments in disbelief, staring at the sight of Presnel, Leon and Joshua with playing cards in their hands. There’s a pile of discarded cards on the pillow at the top of the bed which must be Brandt's. Presnel grins broadly and drops his cards on to the bedcover and hops off the bed.

“I was waiting for my babe,” Presnel announces, throwing his arms around Julian to pull him into a hug.

If they were anywhere else, Julian would have melted into the hug and smiled against the crook of Presnel’s neck, but he is standing in the middle of his Leon and Joshua’s hotel room, and he can feel their eyes on him, and he’s never been comfortable with being watched studiously. Julian gently prods at Presnel’s sides, and Presnel pulls away from the hug, grinning despite the short hug. He turns and slings an arm across Julian’s shoulders. Julian doesn’t miss the look exchanged between Joshua and Leon.

“You should have called and told me when you got here,” Julian says.

Presnel shrugs and laughs, “Yeah, but your friends were entertaining.”

“We talked about the World Cup,” Leon says with a smirk and Julian grits his teeth. There wasn’t any polite and subtle way of asking whether any of them had opened their mouths and said the wrong thing, was there?

“Yeah, the World Cup. They also said that I better not hurt you? Which is wrong, cause I would never do anything that made you sad.” Presnel says, smiling brightly.

Julian’s eyes widen.

There it was.

The smallest of hints that the three of them had said something to Presnel. He's almost tempted to drag Presnel out of the room, and never speak to any of them ever again, but he also needs to know what exactly they had said to Presnel. He looks at Presnel from the corner of his eye to gauge his reaction. He looks amused and he’s not pissed off or confused which is a good sign. Maybe they hadn’t mentioned the dating thing? Maybe his teammates exhibited common sense and restraint for once in their life and hadn’t embarrassed him?

“Kim, could you wait outside for a few minutes? I just need to, uh, uhm, discuss something about tomorrow’s match.” Julian says in French, patting Presnel on the chest.

“Is there some secret tactic I should know about? Something my team ought to know?” Presnel remarks, smiling at Julian with narrowed eyes.

Julian digs his elbow into Presnel’s side, “Go, I’ll be out soon.”  

“Sure, babe, anything for you,” Presnel presses a sloppy kiss against his cheek and Julian feels the tips of his ears heat up. From the corner of his eye, he sees Leon, Joshua and Brandt look away, ducking their heads as though they’re trying to give the two of them space to have a quick intimate goodbye. Presnel’s fingers graze along his arm as he moves away from Julian and it makes something in Julian’s stomach flip over.

 

The door clicks shut behind Presnel, and Julian turns his attention back to his three teammates, who are all wearing identical grins.

Leon points towards the door with an amused glint in his eyes, “Nice job trying to tell us that he’s not your boyfriend.”

“He came to our hotel just to see you. That’s something.” Joshua adds as he gathers up the cards from the bed and shuffles them.

“It’s something, sure, but it’s not fucking dating. And keep your voices down,” Julian hisses, casting a cautious glance at the door. He’s not sure how soundproof the rooms in their current hotel are and he cannot risk Presnel accidentally hearing something he wasn’t meant to hear.

Julian shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt and glares at them. “Tell me you guys didn’t mention the words dating or boyfriend or love or romance when you were talking to him.”

Brandt scrunches his eyebrows together and shakes his head, “No, not in so many words.”

“Yeah, oddly enough, we didn’t talk about that,” Joshua says, with a smirk.

“I told you, Jule, we talked about the World Cup,” Leon adds.

“Okay then, explain to me how or why the conversation about not hurting me came up?” Julian asks, crossing his arms across his chest.

Joshua shrugs, “You’re our friend. He’s important to you.”

“We may have phrased it extremely ambiguously.” Brandt pipes up from the head of the bed, squeezing one of the pillows to his chest.

Leon nods his head, smiling at Brandt before turning to look back at Julian.“I mean, yeah, what if he didn’t want us to know? Didn’t know that we knew about you two? We kept it vague but the threat was real.” 

“I– right,” Julian starts to say before casting his gaze downward at the carpeted flooring of the hotel room. To say that he’s not oddly touched would be a lie. Through all their teasing, he can recognise the well-meaning intentions hidden in their words.

He lets his arms fall to his sides and takes a step back, “Thanks, but– but we're not dating. So yeah, he doesn't know that you think we are. Thanks for not mentioning it to him.”

His fingers twitch and his own smile feels too sharp, too forced. Joshua makes a choked sound in the back of his throat, Julian Brandt sits up straighter and something like understanding blooms across Leon's face.

“Don’t. Don't say a word. I don't want to hear it.” Julian blurts out. He cannot stand and listen to his teammates figure out the truth, and ask him about what exactly was going on with Presnel and him because there was no way he would be able to answer that. He doesn't want to hear their advice. “No, I’m going to go to Presnel now. Thanks for hanging out with him till I got here.”

Julian makes a move towards the door when suddenly, Joshua cocks his head and asks, “Wait, do you speak French with Kimpembe?”

Julian frowns at the seemingly random question and nods his head “Yeah, usually. He's been working on his German though. Why?”

“Wow. Huh. He's learning German for the fun of it, then?” Joshua asks, pursing his lips. “For you?"

There's something about Joshua's thoughtful expression that makes him shift on his feet. He's not sure where the question is coming from or what exactly it is that Joshua isn't asking him out loud, but he's trying to insinuate something for sure. Julian sucks in a breath of air, he doesn’t have the time to sit around and analyse his friends’ commentary on Presnel's and his relationship. Especially not when Presnel is sitting on the other side of that door.

He smiles tightly, “Jo, not now. I need to go. And, uh, don't tell anyone he was here?”

Joshua's eyebrows furrow together, almost as though he's thinking of protesting, but shrugs when Leon looks at him pointedly.

“We won't if you don't,” Brandt smiles smugly, the top of his cheeks colouring an interesting shade of pink as he exchanges a glance with Joshua.

Julian's gaze slides from Brandt to Joshua and then to Leon. Huh. He hadn’t realised there was anything odd about Brandt’s presence in Jo and Leon’s room, until they had mentioned it.

He clears his throat as he turns towards the door and rubs at the back of his neck, awkwardly. “Yeah, of course, it’s not my place, and, well–”

Leon rolls his eyes and snorts, “Just leave, Julian. Your man’s waiting.”

“Shut up,” Julian mumbles, pulling open the door and stepping out of the room.

 

Presnel's sitting on the floor, headphones on, backpack in his lap and scrolling through his phone and Julian feels the tension in his shoulders fade away.

“Hey,” He says, closing the door behind him and nudging Presnel's thigh with his bare foot, “Come on, let’s go to my room.”

Presnel glances up and his face breaks into a wide grin. He slips his headphones off his ears to the base of his neck and he holds out his hand for Julian to pull him off the ground.

“Couldn't have waited to have tactical discussions later? Cut into my valuable Drax time, which is all your fault because you gave me the wrong room number.” Presnel says, pouting as he dusts the back of his jeans.

Julian grimaces and runs his fingers through his hair, “Sorry about that. Technically, it was the correct room. I just forgot to tell you that Leon made me switch with him.” He bites his lip nervously, “They- they treated you okay, right?”

Presnel raises an eyebrow at Julian as he swings his arm around his shoulder, "I’m here, aren’t I? I don’t know what you expected them to do to me.”

Teasing. He had expected a lot more teasing and maybe questions that would reveal the whole situation to Presnel, but that hadn’t happened. He shrugs in response. His eyes flick to the numbers on the doors they walk past and he prays that the rest of his teammates are in bed, or not in their nearby vicinity, he really doesn’t want to run into any of them while he’s tucked against Presnel’s side.

“Tactical discussions.” Presnel continues, grinning broadly, and Julian turns to look at him, his face flushing as he thinks back to the conversation in the room.

“Did you hear what we said?”

Presnel clutches at his chest and shakes his head in mock-offence, “Babe, do you think I would ever spy on you? Is that what you think of me? I’m hurt.”

“Shut up, Kim,” Julian says, turning his head and smiling against Presnel’s shoulder.

He hears the sound of a door opening in the distance, followed by someone loudly clearing their throat, and a cough echoes in what Julian had thought was an empty corridor. His head snaps back up, startled and alarmed, and he feels the colour drain from his face at the sight of Leroy and Jérôme standing in the doorway of his room.

Julian shakes his head with a sigh. Of _-fucking-_ course. He knew he would have to meet Leroy, there really was no way around that, not when Leroy was his roommate, but he had hoped Presnel and he wouldn’t run into any of his other teammates. Except, it was just his luck that after rescuing Presnel from Leon, Joshua and Brandt, he now has to deal with Leroy and Boateng.

Jérôme leans against the door frame, crosses his arms in front of the chest and grins gleefully, “Kimpembe, right? What are you doing in Germany's hotel, huh?”

“Came to see Drax,” Presnel answers, patting Julian’s shoulder.

The smile on Jérôme’s face grows bigger at the accented German from Presnel, and  Julian casts an anxious glance in Leroy’s direction. He adored Jérôme, he genuinely did, but Jérôme was also one of the guys who had wholeheartedly taken to the idea that Julian was dating Presnel. Hopefully Leroy had told Boa everything that had transpired earlier in that room, and hopefully, he had mentioned Julian’s insistence about how Presnel isn't Julian's boyfriend. He’s not really sure what he’s going to do if Jérôme congratulates Presnel or does something equally awkward and embarrassing.

Leroy must sense his unease because he sharply elbows Jérôme in his side, earning a disgruntled glare from the older player. He steps out into the corridor and smiles at Presnel.

“We were going for a game of pool with a couple of the other boys, the two of you are welcome to join us.” Leroy glances at Julian from the corner of his eye and smirks, “Unless, of course, you have plans.”

Julian frowns and bites down on the inside of his cheek. The thing is that Presnel and he do not have any plans. They hadn’t planned beyond Presnel dropping by his team hotel for a little while. He had figured they could probably hang out in his hotel room and watch videos on YouTube and talk till Presnel had to return to his own hotel. And Presnel and he certainly didn’t have the sort of plans Leroy’s mischievous smile was trying to convey. He, also, most definitely, does not want Presnel hanging around with his teammates for a prolonged game of pool because he doesn’t trust any of them not to pass a suggestive comment.

He opens his mouth to reply but Presnel beats him to it, lightly squeezing Julian’s shoulder as he says, “Would love to, but I need to be back in my hotel in half an hour, otherwise Deschamps will have my head. I’ll just chill with Drax.”

Boateng comes up to Leroy and swings an arm around his shoulder, “Chill with Drax, huh? We could chill here, as well. I’m sure Hummels won’t mind if we don’t show up.”

“Of course, Mats will mind,” Julian says hurriedly, alarmed at the idea of giving Jérôme more than ten minutes to interact with Presnel.

Leroy laughs, interrupting Jérôme before he can say anything else, “Fine, Jules, we get it, we're not wanted here. Come on Boa, let's go and leave these two alone.”

“Wait till the rest of the team finds out why Draxler isn't with us,” Jérôme calls over his shoulder as Leroy and he turn away from Julian and Presnel.

Julian sighs, he had been naive for thinking that he had the situation under control when he’d asked Leon, Joshua and Brandt not to say anything to anyone. He shakes Presnel’s arm off him and turns to look at him. There’s an odd expression on Presnel’s face, an expression he cannot really place, something between thoughtful and puzzled.

“Do they think you’re a traitor to your team?” Presnel asks, pointing to Jérôme and Leroy’s retreating backs.

“What?” Julian frowns, scrunching up his nose, “What are you talking about?”

Presnel shrugs, “You’re spending time with me instead of hanging out with them. I mean, we could have hung out with them if you wanted to. I would not have minded.”

“I don’t think they’re worried about me spending with you, Kim, they just– they like to make things dramatic,” Julian says with a quick laugh. Presnel doesn’t need to know that his team thinks that they’re dating. He doesn’t need to know that four floors below them, Presnel’s visit is probably being discussed and being wildly misconstrued into a romantic gesture. He moves towards the door to his room and smiles shyly, “And besides, I want to hang out with you.”

“I’m your favourite, aren’t I?” Presnel declares loudly as he follows Julian to the room.

Julian rolls his eyes as he turns his face away from Presnel, aware of the blush spreading across his face at the delight in Presnel's voice.

 

He flicks on the light switch, flooding the hotel room with warm dim light. There’s a low whistle of approval and appreciation behind him and Julian smiles as Presnel walks to one of the bed’s – Leroy's- drops his backpack to the floor, and throws himself face first onto the mattress. He watches Presnel struggle to kick off his shoes, using his feet and without changing his position, and he laughs.

“Stop, let me do it,” He says, coming to stand at the foot of the bed.

Presnel makes a gleeful sound before turning over lazily and Julian bends to loosely untie the laces of Presnel's shoes. He pulls them off, letting them fall from his hands, and glances up to see Presnel pushed up on his elbows, watching him.

“Hey, babe,” Presnel says with a wide grin, patting the space next to him and Julian climbs onto the bed and sits cross-legged next to Presnel.

“So, what do you want to do now? Want to watch Netflix?” Julian asks, busying himself by scrolling through the messages on his phone. Most of the texts were from the national team group chat, Jérôme and Mats hadn’t wasted any time in spreading the word around that Kimpembe was there. Unsurprisingly, there were many texts, mainly from Reus and ter Stegen, demanding to know how exactly he’d managed to sneak Presnel into the hotel, without the team authorities finding out.

Julian snorts and considers telling them the truth, which was that he had planned everything carefully, had spoken to the doorman and the receptionist of the hotel, and well, Presnel had been given specific instructions to dress as inconspicuously as possible – a subdued outfit of blues, greys and blacks. The plan had been pretty fool-proof, and then, Julian had mixed up room numbers, Presnel had gone to the wrong room, and well, the authorities didn’t know Presnel was in the hotel, but his team did.

He frowns, staring down at his phone screen as he thinks of what to say to get all of them to mind their own business and to figure out how to sneak people in on their own. Maybe he should start with the obvious, about how Presnel is not his boyfriend.

He’s barely typed two words when he feels Presnel’s hand coming to rest on Julian’s knee. Presnel’s thumb rubs gentle circles on the inside of his thigh and Julian looks up from his phone with a start. Presnel is watching him with serious eyes and the corner of his lips are curled up into an amused smirk. There’s something about Presnel’s palm on his knee and the weight of his steady gaze that feels dangerously intimate. It makes him want to drop his head down, rest his forehead against Presnel’s and kiss him, and curl into his side. Julian blinks the image away.

“Kim?”

“So, Goretzka, Kimmich and Brandt.”

“What?” Julian says, blankly. Somehow from all the possible things he thought Presnel was going to say, he hadn’t considered Presnel bringing up his teammates. “What about them?”

“When were you going to tell me that they like each other?”

Julian blinks slowly. “They’re friends? Of course, they’ll like each other, why would you expect anything else?”

Presnel rolls his eyes, “Don't act dumb. I mean, when were you going to tell me that they have sex together?”

_What the fuck._

“How could you possibly know that?” Julian asks in alarm.

Presnel laughs and tucks his hands behind his head and grins up at him, “Really not hard to when Goretzka opens the door in his boxers. Got a glimpse of impressive hickeys on his chest which he rushed to hide, of course.”

“Oh my god,” Julian mutters into his hands. “Presnel, You’re not supposed to– holy shit, and they told me not to tell anyone.”

“So they are having sex?” Presnel smirks. His eyes twinkle under the dim hotel room lighting and Julian feels a slow smile spread across his face in response to the brightness of Presnel's cheeky smirk.

Julian shrugs, “Nobody’s supposed to know, or at least, know as yet. But yeah, guess so? They hinted at something. And well, apparently, Leon was half-naked when he opened the door for you. So, yeah.”

“Huh. Can’t believe that’s your team’s secret. Sex before matches. That must be good for team spirit and stress relief, ” Presnel remarks with a burst of laughter.

Julian tilts his head to the side. It’s not even that Presnel’s wrong, it’s just that the sex was less about team spirit and more about team relationships and romances, not that he was in a mood to explain that to Presnel. But the fact that Presnel had reached that conclusion just from spending fifteen minutes with Leon and Joshua and Julian Brandt is slightly concerning.

“Explain to me how you know this?”

“Huh? Oh, I guessed? I mean. It makes sense to do. I’m sure it's great for team building. I wonder what Deschamps would think of it? Maybe I should suggest it to him.” Presnel muses, turning his gaze away from Julian’s face to stare up at the ceiling.

“Please don’t,” Julian blurts out, shuddering at the thought of Presnel discussing sex with someone like Didier Deschamps.

Presnel ignores Julian’s statement and makes a noncommittal sound. He doesn’t look at Julian when he casually asks, “Drax, am I interrupting something? Did you pause sex with whoever you're sleeping with to hang out with me?”

Julian's mouth drops open. He's not entirely sure how they went from Julian asking if Presnel wanted to watch Netflix to Presnel subtly asking about Julian's sex life, or lack thereof. Honestly, if only Presnel knew the entire story.

Julian laughs nervously,  “I'm not sleeping with anyone, Pres.”

“Come on, babe, you don't have to lie to me.” Presnel whines, pushing himself up on his elbows, to fix his eyes on Julian. There’s a serious and focused expression on his face and it makes Julian squirm. “Is it Sané? Or that guy you were talking about the other day? Emre Can? Is it Rüdiger? Wait, was it Mesut? Is that why–”

Julian blanches and smacks his phone against Presnel’s bicep. “No! Stop it, stop listing out all my friends, _god._ Presko, I’m not having sex with anyone on the team.”

Presnel narrows his eyes at him, “Do you want me to go around asking your teammates? I swear I’ll do it.”

Julian’s certain Presnel Kimpembe is going to be the death of him, or at the very least, put him into awkward situations.

“Do that and I'll never speak to you again.”

Presnel's serious expression breaks to give way for amused laughter. He reaches out and wraps his fingers around Julian's wrist and pulls him closer, and Julian allows himself to be manoeuvred into a lying down position. Presnel's arm is going to go numb with the weight of his head, Julian thinks.

“Fine, keep your secrets but you'll tell me eventually.”

Julian can’t see Presnel’s face but he can hear the smile in his voice. He rolls his eyes and shifts his head to rest it on Presnel’s shoulder.  Presnel brushes his fingers against Julian’s ear and Julian shivers involuntarily.

“Why do you even want to know?” He mumbles out the question.

“Doing my best friend duty.”

“Everyone is too goddamn invested in my life.”

“Side-effects of your charm. Anyway, babe, hate to do this, but I gotta go.”

“Already?” Julian frowns, raising his head to pout at Presnel. He sees Presnel almost every day at PSG, but there's something different about having Presnel here, in Germany, in Julian's hotel room. He holds up his wrist to check the time on his watch and frowns. Maybe the situation would have been different if he hasn't messed up the room numbers. Maybe he would have got to spend more than fifteen minutes with Presnel.

He sighs and pushes himself up, rolling his neck around as he adjusts to the position. “You want me to book a cab for you?”

“No, our hotel is not that far away. Besides, I walked here, I won't get lost walking back if that's what you're worried about. And Munich is not a bad city. Even if Paris is miles better. And I know how Google Maps works.” Presnel says with a grin, pushing himself to the edge of the bed to put on his shoes.

Julian laughs and rests his chin on his palm as he studies the curve of Presnel’s back. It would be easy to reach out and rest his fingers against the small of Presnel’s back, to drop his head against Presnel’s back, to hug from behind and stop him from leaving – it would be so easy. Julian huffs under his breath, he was doing the exact opposite of getting over his crush or love or whatever intense emotion it was that he felt towards Presnel.

Presnel slings his backpack over his shoulder and turns his head to stick his tongue out at Julian. “Doesn’t mean you don’t have to walk me to the doors of the hotel.”

“Fuck off, you demanding idiot,” Julian snaps half-heartedly, already in the process of pocketing his phone and putting on his shoes. “Let’s go.”

 

Presnel’s arm is swung over Julian’s shoulder and he’s chattering into his ear about something Giroud had done during training while Julian locks the door when he hears the door opposite his room open. Presnel shifts to look behind them, arm sliding off his shoulder and he falls silent next to him. Julian grimaces and tries to remember the list of room allotments–trying to figure out which of his meddling teammates had shown up to make his life even more difficult. Havertz. Havertz and Brandt had been assigned the room opposite Leroy’s. He turns around to find Kai awkwardly standing in the doorway, eyes shifting between Presnel and Julian.

“Hi, do you know where Julian is?” Kai asks. Julian raises an eyebrow and the teenager winces and amends, “No, I mean, my Julian? Brandt?”

Presnel looks at him from the corner of his eye and Julian knows that they’re both thinking the same thing, wondering about Kai’s choice of words.

“He was with Leon and Joshua,” Julian says and he’s not surprised when the corners of Kai’s mouth dip into a frown.

“Oh, right, yeah, he did say something about coming back late. Sorry, must have slipped my mind. Anyway, uh, good night.” Kai smiles feebly, nodding at both of them before closing the door.

Julian blinks in surprise at the shut door, he’d been prepared to field questions about Presnel but Kai hadn’t so much as blinked twice. If only the rest of his teammates could demonstrate the same lack of interest. But to be fair, Kai did seem to have other things on his mind, like Julian Brandt.

Presnel gestures at the door, “But Brandt and Goretzka and Kimmich? What?”

“Huh. Yeah. I– I have no idea what that was about and what’s going on. Kid probably has a crush. And no,” Julian presses his finger against Presnel’s lips, silencing whatever interjection Presnel had been about to spout out. “We’re not going back to the topic of who I’m sleeping with, cause I'm not sleeping with anyone.”

Presnel’s eyes widen and Julian pulls his finger away and shoves his hand into the pockets of his sweatshirt. He tries not to think about the feel of Presnel’s lips under his finger. He turns to walk towards the elevator and feels Presnel’s eyes bore into the back of his head. He bites back a shy smile and calls over his shoulder, “We need to go, Pres. I don’t want Didier complaining to Jogi about me because you got back late.”

“And you call me demanding.” Presnel mumbles as the doors of the elevator slide open.

Julian smirks and steps into the lift, holding out his arm to give Presnel time to walk in. The doors are about to close behind Presnel when there’s a shout and someone jams their foot in between the doors. Julian does his best not to thump the side of his head against the wall of the lift. He sighs as Niklas enters, speaking quietly on the phone, and vaguely wonders if maybe this is all a dream and he’s caught in a never-ending nightmare of his worst-case scenario coming to life.

“Bye Sippi, I’ll call you back later.” Niklas says into the phone before turning to Julian with a smile, “Draxler.”

“Hey Süle,” Julian raises his hand in greeting.

Niklas holds out his hand to Presnel, “Hello, I’m Niklas. You must be Julian’s boyfriend who everyone keeps talking about? The one from Paris?”

The evening was a certified disaster, so many close calls and really, he should have expected everything to unravel at the last possible minute. Niklas didn't even give him the chance to cut him off, to intervene before Presnel heard about the rumour, and now, Presnel was casting him incredulous stares. Julian groans loudly and presses his fingers to his eyes. He's not going to cry in frustration, he's not.  Maybe he should have met Presnel at the French National Team’s hotel instead. 

“Presnel Kimpembe,” Presnel says, enthusiastically shaking Niklas’ hand. He leans closer to Julian, lips brushing against his ear as he mumbles in quick French. “Babe, boyfriend. Is that friend or friend-friend? You know, friend or lover?”

There's a spark in Presnel's eyes, somewhere caught between delighted and curious, and Julian shifts on his feet and laughs awkwardly, “Uh, yeah. Ah, about that. It’s a stupid joke. They, uh, they're just teasing. It's not that important. Really. Don't worry about it.”

Presnel lifts his eyebrows as though he's not entirely sure what to make of Julian's vague explanations and the corners of his lips curl into a smile. Niklas clears his throat and Julian startles, he'd nearly forgotten that Niki was still in the elevator with them.

“Niklas! That was Basti on the phone, right? Schalke treating him alright?” Julian exclaims loudly, desperate to take the focus away from him. Judging from the way Niklas shakes his head with a small smile, he's certain that he's transparent. Still, Niklas plays along, smile brightening as he talks about Rudy.

“Well, it's weird but he's doing okay. He likes Schalke, even if they’re still finding their rhythm. Haven't been able to visit him but he's sent me photos of the place. Not a bad place, not a bad club.”

“Of course, it's not.” Julian huffs, crossing his arms to shoot Niklas a level look. A word of justification for Schalke is on the tip of his tongue but the lift slows down to a stop at the ground floor. Niklas sends him a sharp grin before making a beeline out of the lift and into the lobby.

Julian’s about to follow him when Presnel nudges his shoulder against him.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Presnel casually remarks next to him, brushing his fingers against Julian’s hand, before interlocking their hands.

Julian turns his head to look at Presnel who’s grinning at him as though the entire day has been the most regular day ever, as though Julian’s teammate hadn’t just insinuated that they’re dating.

“It’s a joke, they’re just doing it to annoy me,” Julian says, squeezing Presnel’s hand. “Can’t seem to get them to stop.”

“Meh, it doesn’t bother me, cause they’re wrong anyway. ” Presnel remarks and tugs at Julian’s hand, pulling him out of the lift. The movement causes him to fumble over his own feet and he bumps into Presnel’s side.

Presnel laughs under his breath and Julian feels warmth bloom somewhere in the middle of his chest as he looks up at Presnel. He quickly averts his gaze to the hotel lobby and he gasps.

His teammates who weren’t in bed, or otherwise occupied with their personal businesses, had congregated in the lobby. Half the team, or maybe less than half the team were in the lobby, piled on to the two couches, some of them were perched on the ends of the couches, scrolling through their phones, others had their heads pressed together, laughing and chattering. Julian grimaces, he's certain that this makeshift team meeting is because of him and Presnel. They were going to see Presnel walk out of the hotel and there was going to be questioning and teasing, he can already feel it already. At least, Löw wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Thilo!” Presnel hollers next to him and Julian stares in morbid horror as every single head snaps towards them. There’s a wide delighted smirk on Leroy’s face and Julian’s fairly certain that Mats is recording them on his phone.

Thilo cranes his neck to look at them from his relaxed position on one of the couches and throws a two-finger salute at them. “Maybe if you’d brought Kylian along with you, I would have actually cared.”

Presnel’s forehead furrows in confusion and turns to look at Julian with a frown, “What does he even mean by that?”

“I have no idea, it’s probably Thilo being ridiculous. But, uh, Pres, you should leave now. You’ll be late otherwise.”

“Ha, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get rid of me.”

“Pres–”

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving. Don’t nag me,” Presnel says with a grin before lifting their interlocked hands to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of Julian’s knuckles.

“See you tomorrow, babe.” He mumbles against Julian’s skin, and then, he’s dropping Julian’s hand and walking away from him.

Presnel dramatically bows in front of Julian’s teammates, tipping his head towards them. “Presnel Kimpembe. Nice to meet you. Now, goodbye.”

Julian watches as his teammates grin at Presnel, delighted, impressed and amused. Someone praises Presnel’s German and Presnel laughs before heading towards the glass doors of the hotel.

The hotel door swings shut behind Presnel’s retreating back and there’s a heavy pause before lobby erupts into a cacophony of sound – shouts, gasps, cheers, questions – and the heat of Presnel’s lips burns on Julian’s skin. Julian brushes his thumb against the back of his knuckles and shakes his head to himself as he walks towards his teammates. Why did Presnel have this much devotion to going above and beyond himself to demonstrate his affection? It didn’t mean anything special, it was Presnel being Presnel, and yet, Julian is standing in the middle of the lobby, gingerly tracing the spot where Presnel pressed his lips to his knuckles. 

“Julian, what the fuck was that?” Leroy demands, jumping to his feet.

“That was Presnel,” Julian says, resting his hands on the back of the couch. “And before any of you start, no, we’re not dating. Presnel Kimpembe is not my boyfriend. So, all of you can go back to bed. The entertainment’s over.”

“Draxler, are you stupid or something?” Mats loudly demands, turning to look at Jérôme. “Is that what this is? Complete and utter stupidity and obliviousness?”

“Yeah,” Boateng nods his head, pressing his fingers to his temple.

Thilo shrugs, “In Julian’s defence, they’re both equally bad.”

Sitting in between Boateng and Werner, Rüdiger snorts at Thilo’s statement and makes a face that’s caught between laughter and a deep sigh as though he’s personally exhausted but still amused by the entire conversation.

Julian crosses his arms across his chest and eyes his teammates warily, “What are you guys even talking about?”

“You, you idiot,” Leroy sighs before continuing, matter-of-factly. “Jule, we get it. You’re not dating Presnel. But you’re in love with him. And he’s in love with you.”

Julian stumbles backwards, eyes wide as he gapes at Leroy. The denial is prompt on his lips, “That’s bullshit. I– I’m not.  Wait– hang on. No, that’s. No, you’re wrong. Why would you think Presnel’s in love with me?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I exist?” Thilo remarks, shrugging his shoulders.

Mats rolls his eyes and waves his phone in front of him, “He was in this hotel for approximately half an hour and everyone and their parents know that he’s in love with you. Just accept it.” There’s a self-assured finality present in Mats’ voice as though he’s hundred per cent sure of the truth of his words and he’s not the only one, judging from the way his teammates nod their heads enthusiastically.

Julian smiles tightly, “Look, I don’t know why you’d think that Presnel’s in love with me. But you’re wrong and I really don’t want to talk about this right now, or like, ever.”

“Interesting that you’re not denying the fact that you’re in love with him,” Rüdiger comments dryly, fixing a level look at Julian. Julian opens his mouth to protest but Thilo doesn’t let him speak, shaking his head as he continues after Antonio, “No idea how Trapp handled the two. Dancing around each other, like you are the only two people in the room, all the heated glances and touching. I’ve only been subject to it for more than the month and it’s unbearable.”

“What? We don’t– I don’t–” Julian says falteringly. 

Leroy groans loudly and grips Julian by the shoulders, “Shut up. I’m going to ask you this once and only once. Are you or are you not in love with Presnel?”

Silence settles over the lobby and Julian shifts uncomfortably, looking past Leroy’s head at the hotel door. The doorman is located too far away from them for him to hear this entire conversation. Through the doors, he can see people walk past the hotel. He doesn’t have to look at his teammates to know that they’re watching him with bated breath. He’s the protagonist in a theatrical spectacle. He’s being confronted with the secret that he’d been trying to hide and avoid and ignore till it faded away.

Julian exhales and meets Leroy’s eyes. “Uh, yeah? Sort of.”

Leroy grins, “Good, finally. This is progress. Now, what are you going to do about it?”

“Huh. Uh. Nothing? It’s not, guys, it’s just Presnel. He’s not, he’s not– Look, I would know if he was in love with me.”

Mats scoffs, “You’re going to go back to pining and staring at him from the corner of your eye, aren’t you? The emotional intelligence of this team is truly remarkable.”  

“Kinda hypocritical coming from you,” Julian mumbles under his breath. He was there when the whole Mats and Benni thing was first starting out, and he knows that Mats is in no position to comment on Julian’s emotional intelligence. Mats looks suitably affronted at the remark and he rolls his eyes at Julian.

Jérôme chuckles before smiling warmly at Julian, “He’s in love with you, Jule. Trust us on this. You should tell him before it gets too late.”

“Yeah, otherwise, you’re both going to be waiting for the other person to make the first move,” Leroy adds.

Thilo nods his head earnestly, “Seriously, Julian. Just tell him. Run after him and tell him before he gets to his hotel. Do a dramatic straight-out-of-the-movies-confession. Presnel will love that.”

“That’s not really something I’d do, that's too much. And if I do tell him, I can do it tomorrow, after the match. Or even when we’re back in Paris.” Julian begins in protest but falls silent at the withering glare on Thilo’s face.

Leroy pushes Julian towards the hotel door, “Sure, you could wait. But I, and the rest of the team, are tired. I refuse to spend another night with you pining after Presnel, especially not when the both of you are obviously in love.”

“And if you guys are wrong?” Julian asks in a hushed tone.

Leroy frowns, “Okay, but we’re not. And if we are, we’ll figure it out then. Leroy pulls open the door, raising his hand to greet the doorman, before shoving Julian out into the Munich evening breeze, “Just, go! Get your Frenchman!”

 

Julian takes off in the direction of Presnel’s hotel, hoping that Presnel’s chosen the same route as the one Google Maps is currently showing him. The sound of his racing heart and his footsteps hammer in his ears as he runs through the streets of Munich, manoeuvring his way through the late-night crowds. He was not wrong when he said that the hotel wasn’t too far away, but Julian wants to catches up with Presnel before he reaches his hotel–except, he doesn’t know what he’s going to say when he does manage to catch up with him.

He hears Presnel’s laughter before he sees him, standing a few paces in front of Julian. He’s illuminated by the warm glow of the lights from a shop window he’s looking through, while his phone is cradled to his ear as he gestures wildly.

“Presnel!” Julian calls out, startling a few passers-by who send him confused glances. Julian ducks his face down, tugging at the hood of his sweatshirt. He’s glad he isn’t wearing one of his team outfits, the last thing he needs is someone recognising him, and Bild showing up at the scene. Presnel doesn’t seem to hear him though, still engaged in his phone conversation, and Julian curses under his breath, before he takes a deep breath and shouts. “Kimpembe!”

Presnel jumps, stepping away from the shop window with surprise, and Julian huffs a small laugh as Presnel looks suspiciously at the crowd around him. He sees the exact moment Presnel spots him, phone nearly slipping from his hand as he stares at Julian, the furrow of his eyebrows giving way to delight. He mouths something indiscernible into his phone and shoves it into the pocket of his jeans before pushing his way through the crowds to Julian.

“Drax? Did I forget something in the room?” Presnel questions coming to a halt in front of Julian. He suddenly does a double-take, eyes widening with incredulity. “Bro, Julian. You’re panting. Did you, like, run after me? Should have called me to come back. Blaise was going to cover for me if I was late anyway,” he pauses to check his watch and sighs, “Which it looks like I’m going to be. So, what did I forget?”

“Oh, nothing. You didn’t forget anything. I– I was kinda kicked out and told to go after you.” Julian smiles apologetically, holding up his palms to Presnel.

Presnel frowns, “Babe, you’re not making any sense.”

“You asked me if I was sleeping with anyone on the team,” Julian remarks, wincing internally at the bluntness in his tone. This was not how he intended to begin this conversation. Presnel’s frown deepens and Julian laughs nervously, looking down at his feet. “I’m not. I’m not sleeping with any of them and I need you to know that.”

“That’s– that’s what you came to tell me? Cause you know, this defensiveness? Kinda makes you look like you’re hiding something.” Presnel shrugs and there’s a note of discomfort in his voice.

Julian feels his face fall, Presnel wasn’t listening to him. This entire conversation was entirely in line with the unplanned disastrous spirit of the evening. He takes a deep breath and remembers the conviction on Leroy’s face as he shoved him out of the door.  

“You know what? I’m going to try another way. Anyway, uh, my friends, my teammates, well, they think we’re dating? Or, they thought we were dating? Now, they just think that I’m in love with you. And that you’re in love with me. And I ran here cause, hah, I wanted to tell you that they’re not wrong. At least, not about me.”

 _“Babe,_ ” Presnel says softly, in an almost reverential tone, eyes shining brightly under the Munich street lights. and then, he’s grabbing the front of Julian’s sweatshirt, and pulling him closer to him till their chests are touching. “They’re not wrong about me either.”

Presnel smiles as he brings his hands up to frame Julian’s face, stroking Julian’s cheekbones before cupping his chin with one hand and gently running his thumb along Julian’s bottom lip. Julian’s eyelids flutter at the sensation. Presnel’s standing so close to him and Julian just needs to tilt his head forward to kiss him.

“What do you mean?” Julian whispers the question hesitantly, eyes widening because surely Presnel didn’t mean that.

“This,” Presnel mumbles before pressing his lips to Julian’s and Julian stops thinking and kisses back eagerly.

He focuses on the feel of Presnel’s lips against his, on the way Presnel’s fingers are curled around his chin, on how intoxicating it feels to be kissing Presnel–it is both, too much and not enough. His hands come to rest on Presnel’s waist, fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket. 

Presnel pulls away from him and brushes his nose against Julian’s and says, “I was going to tell you today about me. Blaise told me to. And then, I thought you already had someone in your life, someone from your national team, someone you just didn’t want to tell me about.”

Julian giggles and buries his head into the crook of Presnel’s neck, “No, there's no one. It's only you.”

Presnel wraps his arms around him, hugging him tight and he presses a kiss to the side of Julian’s head. 

They’re standing in the middle of a footpath, surrounded by people who keep bumping into them as they walk by, and they both have their curfews hanging over their heads, and they’ll have to let go of each other eventually, but for now, Julian smiles against Presnel’s skin and closes his eyes. 

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I would have probably abandoned this fic two weeks into writing it if it hadn't been for Meggie's and Lu's encouragement and enthusiasm. So, thank you for being excited about this fic and for reading it as it progressed from an idea to a fleshed-out story. 
> 
> ALSO: I didn't mention it in the fic but the phone call at the end of the fic was between Presnel and Blaise and featured lots of whining and complaining from Presnel lmao. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it or if you have thoughts, do leave kudos, comments, and critique, thank you! I'm also on [tumblr.](https://www.kayhavertz.tumblr.com)


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